


Of Mothers and Men and Rescues

by orphan_account



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Post-Series, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Two times Phryne avoided meals with her mother: one pre-series, just before she left for Australia; one post-series, with Jack in London. (And, somehow, I seem to have done a third short story on the August trope.)





	Of Mothers and Men and Rescues

**June, 1928**

Phryne stepped from the cab into a grey drizzle of rain. Typical London, typical June, but her tolerance for both were at a particularly low ebb. The taxi, unfortunately, had made good time. Her mother, always prompt, would certainly be inside the restaurant already, waiting for her, intolerantly. 

Phryne decided she had time for a cigarette before going inside. 

Fishing around her bag for a match, Phryne’s attention settled on an attractive young man just left of the restaurant entrance, standing alone under a broad awning. _Perhaps a moment’s entertainment_ , she thought, and approached to ask him for a light. The man complied eagerly, edging over to allow her to share the awning as the drizzle turned to a steadier rain. 

_Late-30s_ , Phryne assessed. _Well-built, handsome face, and apparently unmarried_ , if she was a good judge of human nature. (And she was a good judge of human nature, in all its varieties.) He held Phryne’s gaze just a beat or two too long as he lit her cigarette. A married man — at least one who wanted to stay as such — would not have done so, or would have looked guilty about it. This man did neither. Perhaps he’d be an interesting companion for her last night in town. It merited further investigation. 

“Thank you for the rescue,” she ventured, curious to see if he would pick up on the humor in her tone. 

“A woman alone in a dangerous town,” he parried. “Yet you seem like someone who can handle herself.” 

_Full points for a quick mind_ , Phryne noted, _and a liberal attitude_. 

“The danger resides inside this fine establishment, I’m afraid,” she continued. 

“Food poisoning,” he joked. 

“Worse,” she replied. “My mother.” 

“I would think she could poison you more easily at home.” His eyes twinkled most attractively, in perfect contrast to his deadpan delivery. 

“Touché,” Phryne smiled, adding witty conversationalist to her list of the mystery man’s positive attributes. 

But was he amenable to fleeting pleasures? There was something conservative in his dress that made the conclusion difficult to draw. 

“I’d happily cancel on Mother and enjoy a longer conversation with you,” she ventured. “But I’ve put her off for weeks, and I’m leaving the country tomorrow for quite some time.” 

“Is there a warrant for your arrest,” he smirked. 

“Are you on officer of the law?” she parried. 

“Simply wondering what degree of rescue of you might require next.” 

There was something off in that answer, Phryne felt. 

Perhaps she was overly sensitive when the conversation drifted anywhere near the topic of chivalric obligations, but if so, what harm was there in the sensitivity? This man, however attractive, was a stranger. If Phryne wanted company for the evening — and she very well might, after spending the afternoon with her mother — it was London, and there were plenty of fish in the sea. 

As she was about to politely take her leave, thanking the young man once again for lighting her cigarette, the sky opened up and the light rain became a downpour. Phryne was at the mercy of the awning, and its current co-inhabitant, if she wished to keep from getting drenched. 

“You see, I happen to be in need of rescue myself,” the man began, as it became clear their conversation would continue a little longer. “You may be facing your mother, but I’m sentenced to have lunch with my mother’s friend and her unmarried daughter.” 

Now it was Phryne’s turn for deadpan delivery, “Oh dear. How dreadful.” 

“A fix-up, you see,” he added. “They’re minor nobles of some sort, but the daughter is in her thirties and still on the market.” No one else was nearby, but he dropped his tone to a low murmur. “I’ve met the father once,” he continued. “I’m not entirely certain they came by the title honestly.” 

_Of course_ , Phryne thought. _There are no coincidences_. 

“Aren’t you still on the market?” Phryne asked. “Why blame this woman if she chooses to live independently, as you do?” 

“Fair enough,” he answered, allowing his cigarette to fall to the wet pavement then twisting it out with his heel. 

“Can I trust you with a secret?” he asked, all irony falling away from his tone. 

Phryne held his gaze, a saw a real vulnerability deep in his eyes. She felt her opinion of him shifting yet again as he revealed a deeper layer underneath. 

“If you know me better,” she began, “you’d understand that discretion is one of my better virtues.” 

“Are you an officer of the law?” he asked, a bit of twinkle returning to his eyes. 

“Certainly not,” Phryne replied. 

He took a step back, moving even closer to the wall of the building, then motioning for Phryne to move closer. 

“I’m leaving London soon as well,” he whispered. “To join the love of my life in Los Angeles. His name is Rupert. He’s an actor.” 

Phryne smiled warmly. “I wish you both the best,” she said. “I think you’ll like California.” 

The man returned her smile. She still didn’t know his name. It didn’t matter. 

“We should head inside now,” Phryne continued. “I’m Phryne Fisher, the daughter of the minor noble in question. I suppose we’ve kept my mother waiting long enough.” 

“Miss Fisher,” he replied, more than a little chagrinned. “I didn’t know. I meant no harm.” 

“No harm done,” she replied brightly. “Come along. You’ll be my comrade in arms.” 

* * *

**December, 1929**

“Phryne,” Jack said, “I’m in need of rescue.” 

Phryne turned towards him on her bar stool, but didn’t stand up. “Why? Did my father break out his nerve tonic?” 

They were, ostensibly, having dinner with Phryne’s parents. Jack, of course, was well acquainted with Henry Fisher, but this was his first lengthy encounter with Lady Margaret Fisher. Margaret had chosen, for some perverse reason Phryne couldn’t fathom, the very restaurant where they had met for lunch over a year ago, before Phryne left for Australia. 

“I sincerely need you to come back to the table Phryne,” Jack continued. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Ordinarily, I’d go outside,” she answered. “But it’s really quite cold and I’m attempting not to take up smoking again.” 

The bartender approached. “Another whiskey, miss?” 

“Yes, please,” she answered. “And one for the gentleman. Sit down, Jack.” 

Jack sat down. 

He looked at Phryne and smiled. If she had asked him to leave London that instant and get on a train or ship or airplane, he would do it. No questions asked. And not give Henry or Margaret Fisher a second thought. 

But Phryne wasn’t running. Just avoiding. Re-grouping, perhaps. 

“Here I thought spiders were you’re only Achilles heel,” he said. 

“And what did you do with that information, darling? You teased me unmercifully.” Phryne laughed — that full and easy laugh that Jack loved so much — a laugh borne out of confidence and freedom. Jack knew she didn’t laugh that way in Margaret’s presence. 

“I’m not teasing you about your mother,” Jack said. “But sitting there at the table alone with the two of them is above and beyond the call of duty.” 

Phryne placed a hand on his cheek and held it there until he took it in his, kissing her palm and then entwining their fingers together on the bar counter. 

“I’ll rescue you,” she said. “Let’s bring our drinks back to the table.” 

Jack stood. 

Phryne swiveled on the bar stool, keeping his hand in hers, but still didn’t get up. 

He moved closer and she placed a hand on either side of his waist. 

“This is another part of me that isn’t going to change, Jack. I need you to know that.” 

“I’m not asking you to change, Phryne. I’m not asking anything.” 

“I know,” Phryne answered quietly. “She’s the one whose asking. Always looking for rescue. I can’t, Jack. She’ll take me down with her.” 

Jack thought of his police training in water rescues — how they were taught in the academy to approach a drowning person from the rear. When approached head on the panicked victim was likely to climb on top of their rescuer, throwing the whole effort into chaos and peril. He didn’t know if Phryne was familiar with that sort of training, but it seemed to be what she was hinting at in some way. 

Jack tugged her hands gently, pulling Phryne to her feet and wrapping her in his embrace. “We can leave now, if you like. Leave the restaurant. Leave London.” 

“No,” she replied simply. “Though I do think I needed to hear that it was an option.” She kissed him gently and pulled back from his embrace. “I can protect myself, darling. I know how. But it’s much easier when I have you by my side.” 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he answered. 

He took her hand, and they walked back into battle side by side. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Fire_Sign for the prompt "Margaret" when I asked for something this morning. It got the wheels turning.


End file.
